Setting the Pace
by scarsididnothingtoearn
Summary: Quinn Fabray and Rachel Berry, unlikely friends-turned-lovers, have a relationship rooted in amounts of trust and love rarely seen today. When they embark upon a journey of self-discovery together through their take on the D/s lifestyle, how will they juggle some semblance of propriety and their new set of interactions? Modern D/s future AU. Not PWP. Rating will increase later.


If you'd told a 16-year-old Rachel Berry that she was going to end up in a loving, committed relationship with Quinn Fabray, she would have laughed in your face. Loudly. Probably while maintaining a vise-like grip on the umbrella she often used to shield herself from slushyings orchestrated by, you guessed it, Quinn Fabray.

But here she is, ten years later, enjoying the beautiful April weather and a piggyback ride (because she was going to _die_ if she had to walk one more step, which Quinn laughed at before crouching down to let her climb on).

And good God, she's never been happier than she is right now. With a resume consisting of five credits thus far and the role of Cathy in the long-awaited Broadway production of _The Last Five Years_ alongside yet another significant part of her past who goes by the name Jesse St. James, what doesn't she have to be happy about? As strange as it is that she's now a close friend to Jesse and a lover (in both senses of the word) to Quinn, it seems that everything's aligning perfectly for her right now, and she really wouldn't change a thing. Well, maybe just _one_.

* * *

Rachel always takes the lead. That's simply how she's always operated and how she plans to continue on indefinitely. Quinn plays along the great majority of the time, allowing the little leader to decide which rugs to put in their apartment and which of the _many_ vegan and vegetarian restaurants New York has to offer that they'll visit for dinner on date night, although she sometimes insists that they go somewhere that offers meat also. Rachel sometimes capitulates.

And maybe that's why she asks, maybe their little give and take is what first gives her the idea. "How do you feel about dominance and submission?" she inquires one day, as she places her fork and knife down on the dinner plate before her, swiveling them into a 4 o'clock position to signal the completion of her meal. She realizes shortly thereafter that she definitely should've waited until Quinn had finished swallowing her drink to ask; her bangs are probably going to dry frizzy, and Quinn's probably going to poke fun at them.

"What are we talking about here, Rachel? Do you have a secret toybox I don't know about?" Rachel scoffs. "No." Yes. "I'm not talking about just _that_ , Quinn. It's just—I have this need to control; you know that. And I've spent most of my life doing whatever it took to assert some form of dominance in my everyday life. But what I want—what I want from _you_ is for you to give it to me. We already have a pattern that points to it, but I'd like something a little more…official, you could say. All I ask right now is that you think about it and maybe dedicate some of your spare time to research if you'd like to read more before we have the discussion. Okay?"

Quinn's response is a simple nod of her head, and that's enough for Rachel right now.

* * *

Quinn has a lot to consider. She can admit (to herself) that the thought of submitting to Rachel sends a tingle down her spine. In fact, she's felt it to varying degrees before when Rachel's expressed pride for her, lightly instructed her to get something from another room in the apartment, or become more forceful than usual in the bedroom.

The idea of letting go, of allowing someone she deeply trusts to take charge purposefully is beautiful, freeing, even. But as someone who spent years of her life living in a household where maintaining control of her emotions was key, she hasn't been very good at letting go for long. Even now, even with Rachel, it's sometimes difficult for her to freely express herself and allow the petite brunette she's grown to adore to take charge in the simplest of ways, like the aforementioned that spread warmth all the way down to her toes. But she thinks that she and Rachel could have something even more special than they already do if she gives it even more of a try.

* * *

It's a Thursday evening the first time it happens. Rachel's on the sofa watching some ridiculous reality TV show about bra-fitting in an attempt to decompress after a particularly trying day at the theatre, and Quinn's been an absolute _godsend_ tonight. Whether it was the backrub, the ready-and-waiting-but-still-warm takeout order from Rachel's favorite restaurant the second she walked through the door, or simply the love that she can so clearly see in Quinn's eyes each time their gazes meet that's been the biggest help tonight, the brunette can't possibly discern, but what she knows with the utmost certainty is that there's no one she's ever wanted or will ever want more than Quinn Fabray.

And when the taller of the two winds up on her knees beside the spot Rachel's occupying on the sofa, well, the warm, fuzzy feeling in her heart is almost too much for her to bear. "Quinn, are you—" She cuts herself off, a smile worming its way onto her lips (not that she's trying to fight it; she knows how much Quinn loves to see her smile). The blonde's own smile, sweet and just a little bit crooked in the cutest way possible, follows almost instantly, and Rachel thinks that maybe Quinn's come to realize that she's wanted this just as much. Maybe her path to that discovery has just been a little bit longer.

Still, in dealing with a situation as delicate as this one, she's not about to move forward without a perfectly clear confirmation that this isn't only because it's what _she_ wants. As though she were some kind of mind-reader (Rachel likes to say that she's a little psychic, but it's truly _Quinn_ who's been gifted with an eerie ability to read people), Quinn replies to the unspoken inquiry, "I want to. I thought about it, and I want to." A grin lights up Quinn's face, and Rachel can't help but mentally observe just how beautiful her girlfriend is for what's probably the ten-millionth time—give or take 9,999,990 times—in the past five minutes.

"I'm glad," is her verbal response. They'll discuss more of the important specifics shortly, with the use of a carefully organized document that Rachel drafted for this very purpose. For now, Rachel's hand is running through silky locks, Quinn's head has come to rest on the thigh closest to her, and more words would spoil the sanctity of the moment that Quinn agrees to give herself to Rachel in a new, deeply meaningful way that's sure to alter their course together more than either of them can be completely sure of just yet.


End file.
